


Four a.m.

by turante



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turante/pseuds/turante
Summary: This used to be their time, now their nights were consecrated to sleep.





	Four a.m.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Spring into Sherlock Festival](http://sherlockmas.livejournal.com/35011.html) at the Sherlockmas lj community.

Four a.m. was an ambiguous time: it was technically still the middle of the night – the sky was dark and most people were asleep – yet it already held the first subtle warnings of dawn – birds chirping, street lights gradually dimming and the first morning workers rising.

It wasn’t so unusual to find Mycroft up at four a.m., sometimes he was still up, recovering from the jet-lag from a trip to the American continent, and sometimes he was already up for a video conference with someone in Asia instead.

Lestrade was no stranger to that grey area between night and day, having been called out of bed for a case (or to save Sherlock’s ass) on more than one occasion. A few times he was still awake simply because worries didn’t let him sleep, and he found himself stealing glances at the clock, willing it to speed up and finally declare it was morning so he could have a cup of coffee and a newspaper to read instead of having only the ceiling to contemplate.

When Lestrade and Mycroft started sleeping together, four a.m. was their time, the moment for stolen kisses and heated passion before both their alarms rang and called them back to reality and responsible adult behaviour. But they weren’t in their twenties – or even in their thirties – anymore, and that couldn’t continue for long. The enthusiasm didn’t disappear, it just faded a bit, and the passion shifted to a more suitable time – mid-afternoon – when they could sneak off for lunch and meet to secretly share some sandwiches and a snog, more on some rare occasions, and their nights were once again consecrated to sleep.

Every now and then one of them would wake up at that time, look at the clock and smile fondly at the memories, maybe get up to get a glass of water and then snuggle back under the covers to catch a few more hours of precious sleep, which felt like a rare commodity on some days.

Spring was gradually turning into summer, carefully in order to prevent too many people from noticing, but the days were getting longer and warmer, and the weather nicer.

One night – one morning, he wasn’t really sure anymore – Lestrade woke up, still naked from the night before. He looked at the time and was not really surprised to read that it was a little past four in the morning.

Had it really been a year already since the last time he’d woken Mycroft up before their alarms rung? How long since the last time he’d made them both late for work, holding his companion in bed for more kisses?

The truth was a bit sad, and routine was bleak and pale in comparison to those first enthusiastic months.

Lestrade sighed, about to get back to sleep, when he thought that he was still in time to change things. He leant over and kissed Mycroft’s naked shoulder, gently, tracing the sparse freckles that were there with his lips. He pressed himself against the man’s back, passing an arm around his waist, feeling Mycroft relax in his sleep and shift in his embrace to make himself more comfortable.

“My,” Lestrade called softly, his voice still a bit rough from sleep. He started placing kisses along a line that went from Mycroft’s shoulder to his neck, lips finally resting on the man’s cheek. He whispered into his ear next, “Mycroft,” and the man in question groaned and buried his head into the pillow. Lestrade reached with his other hand and started stroking his hair fondly. “My, wake up,” he called again, gently. They might have all the time in the world, but Greg was determined on making good use of that morning. Just this once, he told himself, he was going to convince Mycroft of his point of view. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task, but it would be worth it, well worth the prospect of sending Mycroft to work a little tired but with a grin on his face. “Wake up,” he insisted, and Mycroft hummed something against the pillow that might have been an answer. “Mycroft,” Lestrade called again, kissing his temple and guiding the man to turn in order to have access to his sleepy lips.

“What time is it?” Mycroft slurred, holding in a yawn and looking around the room in search of telltale light that would declare it morning. The room was still dark, and he tried to gauge how much time they had before they were supposed to get up and go to their offices.

“Watch the sunrise with me,” Greg murmured into his ear, and Mycroft sighed, turning towards the window to take in the dark outside.

“You’re mad, it’s still dark. Let me sleep, it’s night,” Mycroft whispered, but didn’t shy away from the kisses.

“That’s exactly the point,” Greg replied, pressing himself against the other man’s back and placing a trail of kisses down his neck to his shoulder, gently tracing his chest with his fingers.

Mycroft’s body was responding to his touch, and the man seemed to remember only then that he was still naked – that they were _both_ still naked. “Greg,” he warned, stifling a yawn with a long fingered hand.

“Come on, My, remember when we used to wake up at this time?” another kiss on his lips, a bit more insistent and passionate, “Tell me you never think about it...”

Mycroft attempted a smile, “I forgot how you used to wake me up.”

“And now you’re looking forward to a repeat performance?”

Mycroft chuckled and Lestrade rolled on top of him, continuing to disperse kisses and lascivious caresses. “Hm, I’d do anything to get back to sleep,” Mycroft said, only half convinced.

Lestrade licked his lips, “I want you, Mycroft,” he growled into his ear, voice low and suggestive as he rubbed himself against the other man, “like you can only imagine.”

Mycroft groaned, “I have a long day ahead of me,” he tried weakly to complain, but it was useless since Lestrade could be very convincing and his body seemed to be much more willing to get along with Greg’s idea rather than his.

“All the more reason to send you to work with a smile...”

Lestrade’s words always seemed to hit the spot. “Greg, come on, what time is it?” Mycroft inquired, trying to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on his nightstand.

“Early enough to have some time for ourselves.”

“A number, Gregory, give me the time.”

Lestrade sighed and placed a kiss to the hollow of Mycroft’s neck before surrendering and informing him that it was: “Twenty past four.”

Mycroft combed Greg’s hair back and smiled sweetly at him. “My alarm is set to 5:30, I need the sleep, Greg.” Even as he said it Mycroft felt a pang of regret for insisting on denying the obvious.

“I have a better idea to spend the time,” Lestrade reiterated, grabbing a hold of one of Mycroft’s wrist and raising it above his head. “And don’t try to convince me you’d _really_ rather get back to sleep,” he grinned as he said it, rubbing himself against him and finding undeniable proof that the other man was as aroused as he was. “At least some part of you is awake.”

“Greg, you’re not helping...”

The inspector started nibbling on his neck, moving down to kiss and suck on a spot on his collarbone, drawing a moan from his partner’s lips. “But I am,” he replied cheekily, continuing to move his mouth down Mycroft’s chest, nuzzling, kissing, biting and licking until he finally managed to get a chuckle out of the man.

“Fine, I give up. I want you too,” Mycroft confessed, freeing his other hand from the loose grasp the police officer had on his wrist and passing his fingers on Greg’s cheek, rubbing the fresh stubble. “I missed seeing you like this,” he added in a whisper.

“Me too,” Lestrade replied, mirroring the gesture and stroking Mycroft’s unsmooth cheek, “It’s such a relief to see that you’re not impeccable 24/7.”

Mycroft licked his lips and moved his other hand to the inspector’s ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’m barely presentable after we have sex,” he said in barely more than a whisper, a little ashamed at his own words.

“And it takes me a lot of effort to achieve that,” Lestrade replied smugly, “but it’s definitely worth it.”

Mycroft then silenced him with a kiss, reversing their position so that he could be on top. “You enjoy embarrassing me, don’t you?” he asked then, as his lover passed his hands on his back in a gentle caress.

“Immensely,” the inspector admitted, moving his hands lower to grab hold of Mycroft’s hips, gently starting to rub himself against him. “You’re a sight when you’re all flushed and sweaty,” Mycroft started kissing the other man’s neck, letting Lestrade run his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was, mirroring his earlier gesture to rub Mycroft’s cheek and brush his lips with the tips of his fingers, “when you’re so excited you’re willing to beg me,” Mycroft parted his lips and then sucked on one of the fingers until he had gotten a moan out of Lestrade’s lips. “And when you still smell like sex and me,” Lestrade finished, making his lover moan around his finger.

“Greg,” Mycroft whispered his name again, this time stretching to reach the nightstand for the tube of lubricant they had abandoned there before going to sleep. He got it and put it beside Lestrade’s pillow where it was easily reachable.

“Tell me,” Lestrade teased, pushing his lover back on the mattress beside him and inverting their positions once more, brushing a thumb over Mycroft’s lower lip before leaning forward and holding it between his teeth. He bit a little harder and then let go, continuing to tease him. “Do you ever think about those first nights together?”

Mycroft moaned softly and blushed a bit. “Those _mornings_ , you mean?” he corrected, seeking confirmation into his lover’s eyes.

“That’s not the point,” Lestrade replied, kissing his jaw and neck, slowly moving down his chest with his lips. “Remember how I used to wake you up?”

Mycroft groaned and bit his lip, grabbing Lestrade’s short hair and pulling slightly. “Oh, yes, I do,” he sighed as he felt those lips move lower and closer to his erection, pleasant memories already sending a tingle down his spine.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” Lestrade teased, placing a kiss on a hipbone, making the other man shudder in impatience.

“Fuck, Greg, please...”

Lestrade traced the hipbone with his tongue, slowly, carefully, drawing more whimpers from Mycroft as he closed a hand around his erection and started masturbating him. “I love it when you say ‘please’,” the inspector said, wetting his lips. He closed his mouth over him and started sucking, taking it slowly, torturing him a little as he always enjoyed doing when they were not pressed for time.

“Ah Greg,” Mycroft moaned, shifting his grip on his hair and pulling gently to guide his mouth on him to establish a slow, enticing rhythm that was far from satisfactory, but perfect as foreplay – they both remembered how those mornings used to go – and Mycroft took the lube and handed it to Lestrade, who stopped his activity only to uncap the tube.

The police officer spread some of the lubricant on his fingers and picked up where he left off, tracing his tongue on the shaft and making Mycroft moan and arch his back in helpless desire. Lestrade slowly started to probe him with a finger, allowing his lover to relax before insisting and adding a second one. Lestrade was nothing if patient, and Mycroft was trembling and begging him to stop before he complied, extracting his fingers and preparing himself.

“I thought you were going to make me wait forever,” Mycroft told him, voice trembling with arousal, as he pulled him close for a passionate kiss.

“Next time,” the inspector replied playfully, nibbling his lip and guiding his cock into him. “Next time,” he sighed as he sheathed himself and felt Mycroft’s short nails scratch his back.

“Don’t joke,” Mycroft groaned, shifting his hips and begging Lestrade to start moving.

The inspector decided not to reply verbally and kissed him instead, holding one of his hands in his own as he pulled out and pushed back in at a slow, leisurely pace that he kept up as long as he could, until the he felt that he could not resist any longer, and needed more. He let his lust guide him as he moved faster, thrusting into Mycroft’s willing body and drawing one desperate moan after the other, to the point where he didn’t even know that it was him panting and groaning in need. All his focus was into giving his partner pleasure, and when he finally felt Mycroft spend himself in his hand, he let go and after a few more thrusts came inside him, muffling a curse against his lover’s shoulder.

They lay like that for several long minutes, simply catching their breath and exchanging a few languid caresses later. Lestrade caught his lover smiling as he was moving off him. “Not annoyed at being woken up,” he commented, with a grin of his own.

“No, but now I could really use a shower.”

“And some breakfast,” Lestrade added for him, stretching his arms and legs before stealing a glance at the sky outside their window. “Just like old times?”

“Sure,” Mycroft answered him, definitely more malleable and in a better disposition than usual, “But this time, _I_ will make the tea.”


End file.
